Play, Punish, Mark, Own
by Buster's Jezebel
Summary: Mac of Red Canyon meets Shane of The Walking Dead. When Mac has some fun with Shane, he returns the favour. No relationship can grow from that right? Maybe, maybe not. Heavy slash, smut, non/con situations. BDSM. I own nothing.
1. Shac Chapter 1

_A/N - Okay, here is my first crossover. **Shane from The Walking Dead and Mac from Red Canyon**. Special thanks must go to Peachylana's husband R for giving her the prompt, and Peachylana herself for kindly allowing me to steal it. L, I truly hope it is as epic and screwed up as you were wanting. Now anyone who knows me knows that explicit smut will feature. And if you've seen Red Canyon you need no further reference. But if you haven't then be warned there are strong psychological themes and scenes of a non/con nature. Consider yourself warned. As always the characters ran away with me and developed beyond the few thousand words I'd envisioned. Basically they tied me down and had their way with me. Exhaustedly. So cringe, wince, close your eyes at times, but read and hopefully fall in love with my vision of Shane and Mac aka...Shac. This is set in between the flashback sequences from the movie Red Canyon and before the movie itself starts. Also before the zombie apocalypse starts._

* * *

Deputy Shane Walsh. Fuck. He stares at himself in the rearview mirror. He's sitting in his jeep in front of the house that will be his for the next six months. Temporary transfer, changing of the guard. Fucking bullshit. He was being punished because some fucking dipshit made a complaint and they wanted him out of dodge. He knew it was bullshit, Rick knew it was fucking bullshit, had fucking said so to their Sheriff. But he was still being punished.

Bumfuck Utah the sign might as well read. Not Cainville. Shane shakes his head breaking eye contact with himself. He gets out of the jeep grabbing his two duffle's along with his weapons bag. He doesn't bother locking the jeep, he hasn't got anything in it worth stealing. He unlocks the door and leaves it open to air the house. Piece of shit dump it is. But better than the literal dump of a house he'd passed on the way here. It didn't even have power, only a generator. He flicked the light switch and this place at least had that.

He unpacks the little he'd brought with him and then heads back out to the jeep. He grabs his punching bag and sets off to the shed on the property. He looks at the beams and knows they'll carry its weight. Finding a ladder Shane hooks up the bag and letting it hang down he adjusts the height going up and down the ladder a few times to do so. Then he puts it away and watches the bag for a few minutes. Before he's realised what he's doing he's moved to it and landed a punch, then another and another. Not working out this time, just working out his fury. His fury at himself, his fury at his friend and partner, his fury at his boss and his fury at life in fucking general. Life for gifting his friend with someone like Lori. For the child they had together. For the life they shared _together_.

Shane had never had anything in life he'd wanted before that he couldn't get. Until now. And he was furious.

##########

Mac breathes in the fresh air standing outside his cave. He unsnaps his coveralls and pulling his arms out of the sleeves, he lets them dangle while he lights a cigarette. He's finished another batch of meth putting him ahead of schedule not that he'll tell his old man, he'd only have him make more. He can barely keep up as it is. And since that cunt had killed Rick a few years back he was short-handed. His old man had decided not to hire on anyone else, wanted to keep it in the family. Fucking rot that was. And that fucking retard Harley had gone and become a fucking deputy. Shaking his head in fury Mac opens his tin and takes out some chaw putting a wad in his cheek. He cuts meth in with it. Give's a slower and longer lasting high that still allows him to work and not go batshit  
crazy like some do when the fuckers smoke it or eat a rock. Like the high Rick had caused him to have that night he'd fucked Devon's sister. Fuck, was she his sister too? He didn't fucking know and he didn't fucking care. But either way, it doesn't hurt that his old man hasn't figured out what he's having, he thinks it's just tobacco. Any advantage against Walter he can get Mac will take. He watches the sun set not seeing its beauty. Mac sees no beauty in life. He heads back to the cave to package what he's made and to start on another batch while he's in the mood. Then he needs to get home to feed his fucking dog.

Hours later he stops in the middle of the road looking at the Ashton house. There are lights on inside. And a jeep in the driveway. Big tires with large coil suspension springs. A man's vehicle. He leaves his engine running while he stares. Who the fuck is it? Better not be that fucking shit Devon. Mac swears one of these days he's gonna gut him and bathe in his blood. That fuck had cost him thousands of dollars, all because he'd taken his fucking sister to his cave so she could see Harley. Fucking cunts, the pair of them. Suddenly he sees a shadow detach itself from the side of the house. It's not Devon he realises. Whoever it is was watching him watch the house. He stares at the shadow as it stares back. Mac feels the gaze of the man watching him. It makes him nervous. And so far in his life the only person who has ever made Mac nervous is Walter. That a man he can't even see is making him nervous is pissing him off. Making him more furious than usual. Without even looking he reaches for his cigarettes and shakes one out and lights it. All the while he's staring at the shadow he can see. And he feels the shadow staring back. He inhales his smoke and then exhales as he puts the truck back in gear and drives on to his own house.

##########

Shane reports for duty the next morning on an empty stomach. The Sheriff thankfully takes him to breakfast while on foot patrol. He points out various businesses. And he points out a bar on the edge of town, barely visible to the naked eye it's so far out. It's in their limits he says but the owner usually manages to handle any trouble. It serves good food but unless you like rough places don't go there after about ten in the evening. He's serious when he says it looking at Shane making him understand the type of place it is. Shane looks out at it. He'd fit right in he thinks. But he nods at the Sheriff merely saying they have a place like it back home in Georgia as well. After work he hits the grocery store but realises there is no hardware store. He queries the grocery clerk and they say the garage on the way out-of-town will sell what he's after. He puts his groceries in his jeep and stops there on his way home. It's nearly closing. He stops the guy from locking the door. His uniform is the only thing preventing it from slamming in his face he knows. Shane takes advantage of it, he needs the tape or he'll bruise his knuckles even more than he did last night. And that's bad for business. He purchases a half-dozen rolls of the tape he uses, that should keep him stocked for a month or so he thinks, he makes sure to check they always stock it and the guy answers they do. He's sullen and fidgety, coming off a high Shane realises. None of his business he thinks. Shaking his head he heads outside the guy following on his heels and shutting and locking the door behind him. Shane pauses however as he surveys the parking lot. It hadn't been there before but there is a red pick-up truck parked at the side entrance now. He asks who it belongs to and finds it belongs to the mechanic and owner. Shane asks his name as the guy lopes away to his own piece of shit vehicle. He tosses the answer over his shoulder as he gets in. Mac. Shane doesn't know if that's his first or last name, but it is something. Now he just has to put a face to the man he'd watched watching him last night.

##########

Mac stands inside the closed-door of the side entrance. He watches the man speak to Denny's back through the dirty window as he ran off to his car. And he heard Denny say his name. Fucking sun was in his eyes. He'd recognised the jeep when he'd pulled up. He was waiting to get a look at the man who'd stared back at him last night. But the fucking sun wasn't cooperating. He was in shadow. All he could see was he was tall and had a good build with curly hair showing under the cap he wore. No hat for this deputy. Fucking figured he was a cop Mac thought. He wondered if Walter had known that when he'd let him the house. He was betting he did. He'd get a kick out of inconveniencing his eldest son. The only son who'd stuck around Mac thought bitterly. He thinks about walking up past the Ashton place this evening to see what he can see but decides against it. Shouldn't fuck with a deputy. Or at least not until he knew more. With this thought in mind he heads over to the far wall picking up the phone and dialing a number from memory. He makes arrangements and then does the last bit of work he needs to make sure he has the weekend off.

He heads home and feeds his dog letting him out for a run in the yard while he tinkers with his generator. Then he pens him up again as he heads inside to shower. When he's in the shower and thinking on the silhouette he'd seen earlier today he is shocked to feel his cock stir. What the fuck? He's not a fucking homo. He grips it but it only hardens further as he tries to quash thoughts of the legs he'd seen walking back to the car. Mile long legs that had eaten the ground like it was nothing. And he'd walked like a predator on the balls of his feet. And none of this was helping his fucking hard on. Mac gripped his cock as hard as he could, hoping to stop his erection in its tracks but that only made him more aroused because he fucking liked pain. What the fuck was wrong with him? He didn't fucking like cock, he liked cunt; he took cunt and only cunt. He let go of his dick and finished rinsing his hair letting the soap run down his body then without hesitation he turned the water to cold. His curses echoed off the walls of his filthy bathroom but the cold water did the job. When he's finished his shower he gets dressed and heads out to his truck. Before starting the engine he looks down to the Ashton house in the distance, the lights are on.

##########

Shane finishes his evening workout. He's heading back to the house when he hears the faint sound of an engine starting up. Looking down to Mac's dump he sees the truck lights reverse and then head on into town. He wonders where Mac is heading. Mac. He wonders if it's his first or last name. He wonders what he looks like. He smoked he knew because he'd lit one last night when they'd been watching each other. Shane wondered if he'd be someone who'd keep him company during the six months he was here. He was used to seeing Rick every damn day. Work or otherwise. He showers off his sweat before heading into the kitchen. He's not on call this weekend and the next two days stretch before him endlessly. He thinks he'll go hiking for most of it, get to know the territory and keep himself fit. No fucking gym here, he'll have run and hike for his cardio. He already missed Georgia, he missed the insects, the wet heat that it was. Not this fucking dry as a bone weather. Unrelenting day after day. Nothing green anywhere. Why couldn't he have been transferred somewhere green at least? He shakes his head as he looks at the dinner he'd just made without thinking. He's not hungry but he eats. He knows his body needs fuel. Then he turns on the television. It's nothing but snow. Shit, he ain't even gonna bother with trying to get it fixed he thinks, he'll just rent videos. There's a store in town. But he's bored. Back home he'd have friends to see, work around his house to do. Not even a fucking movie theatre in this town. He decides to take a walk. He grabs his keys and leaves the kitchen light on along with the outside light out the back. He takes a torch but it's a full moon so he doesn't need it as long as he sticks to the road. He wanders up into the canyon, heading back the way Mac's truck had come from the night before. What had he been doing out here anyway? Shane had looked at the map, there was no other house out here.

He's curious, curious about Mac, he's not yet laid eyes on him but he's thought about him at least a dozen times in the past twenty-four hours. He lives in an absolute shithole. He has a vicious dog that Shane is sure would tear his throat out if it ever got loose. He drives a beat-up piece of shit truck on the outside but with an engine that purrs like a kitten. Shane didn't know a lot about engines, but he knew enough to tell when one was tuned to perfection. That truck might not look like much but its engine was top of the line. Without realising what he's doing Shane turns around and heads back down toward his house continuing on past it. He walks steadily not questioning what he's doing even though is conscience is screaming at him to stop, to go back. He's trespassing he knows but he can't help himself. He is curious. And his curiosity when it's roused knows no bounds. Taking a deep breath he puts a hand on the fence of Mac's house yard and vaults over. The dog sets up a racket. Shane decides to see if he can befriend it. He heads over and talks soothingly to it. Using a monotonous tone of voice that doesn't change he crouches while the dog continues to bark, spraying him with spittle in the process. After what seems an eternity it stops barking. And it looks at Shane. Without hesitation Shane puts his hand to the cage letting the dog sniff him. He is surprised by a lick on his palm. Its tongue is rough, wet and warm. Shane wonders if the dog licks its owners palm as well. It takes him a few seconds to realise his cock is twitching in his pants at the thought.

He is up like a shot startling a whine out of the dog. No, he thinks. No. He's not going there. He turns around and simply walks away vaulting the fence again and heading back up to his own house. He will not do this. He will not get caught up in shit like this.

##########

Someone with huge fucking feet had been in his yard. Mac stands staring at the boot prints in the dirt. They'd come over the fence, up to his dog's pen and stayed there, from the look of them they'd even squatted for a time. His eyes narrowed as he stared at them, everything narrowed until all he could see was the boot prints in the dirt. His dirt. He'd known last night when he got home that someone had been around. He'd smelled him. That scent Mac had somehow smelled last night seemed to be still lingering in the air this morning. He knows it's fucking stupid but he's sure he can smell the man. He feeds his dog and then decides that he needs to deal with this shit head on. He opens the pen and the dog trots out. When he sets off up the road the dog heels beside him like he's been taught. Mac doesn't even bother to shut his front door.

He bangs on the back door standing beside it with his dog sitting directly in front of it. It's early, just a half hour after dawn but he doesn't fucking care. Fucker ain't got any right to be on his property and Deputy or not he's gonna learn not to fuck with Mac. The sap he'd grabbed slips down his sleeve into his palm as the door opens. Distracted by saying hello to the dog he doesn't see Mac until he launches himself at him, clubbing him on the side of the skull with the sap and then leaping inside as he falls backward. Before the guy knows what the fuck is happening Mac has rolled him over and has tied his hands behind his back kneeling on him the entire time. He comes back to himself to find his dog whining in his face before he moves to the unconscious man's head and licking his face. Mac slaps his dog away as he stands up. His eyes are caught by the weapons dismantled on the table. He's not great with guns but he can tell about three of them are strewn on the table in the process of being cleaned. Fucker was an early riser he thought. He remembers his conversation with Harley last night. Shane Walsh, single, in trouble for beating too much on someone in lock-up. Sent here to get him out-of-the-way for six months. Unless Mac fucking killed him now he was gonna be stuck with the fucker for six months. He paces as he lights a cigarette and thinks about what he wants to do versus what he will do to the man on the floor in front of him. He is nervous. The guy is a cop, and not a local one. If he makes a mistake in how he handles this he'll be fucked. He's sure the cop has friends who'll rain hell on Gainesville until they find out what happened to him. He paces some more before giving in and taking some meth that he cut's with chaw. He chews it, letting it seep slowly into his system. Fuck smoking it, slow is better when it comes to this shit. He watches the man on the floor start to slowly regain consciousness. And he decides to leave, he grabs his dog and walks back out of the house leaving his front door open as well. He is furious at himself for giving in and going so far as to look at taking the man and playing with him before he did away with him. But…he could play. He comes to a stop in the front yard as he thinks it through. He could play, right here in the house and then leave. No way would the fucker report it being the type of guy he is. Mac would be completely safe if he had some fun with him. He knows this with certainty. But he'd have to be careful, no marks, no bruises. He smiles as he thinks he can work with that as he walks back inside, shutting the door behind him.

##########

Shane's head is pounding. He feels like a jack hammer has set up residence on the side of his skull. What the fuck happened? He goes to move but realises his hands are tied behind his back. Panic skitters down his spine as he realises his legs are tied as well. He's hog-tied. Literally hog-tied. He can't fucking move. He hears a snuffling sound and turns his head. Mac's dog is drinking from a bowl of water on the floor. Shane watches in puzzlement as he puts two and two together. Mac had hit him, used his dog as a distraction and hit him. And now he'd tied him up. But why? Shane hears a rustling sound to his right and turns his head that way. He sees a pair of beat-up steel-toed boots in his vision. The legs in them spread wide, covered in navy blue pants of some description. He can see one hand lying on a thigh, fingers dangling a cigarette between the legs. The other arm he can't see. He still can't see the face of Mac though he knows its Mac because of the dog. Shane closes his eyes as he coughs trying to get his breath. He has something around his neck. Panic turns to sheer terror that slides an ice-cold blanket of dread over his entire body making him break out in a cold sweat as he realises that his neck has a rope around it. A rope tied to his legs. If he straightens his legs he'll choke himself. He closes his eyes hoping he's dreaming but he's not. When he opens them he's still hog-tied. He doesn't feel the roughness of the rope on his neck though. His eyes wheel in his head when he figures out that Mac has put cloth around his neck so he doesn't mark it. That means he isn't going to kill him or he wouldn't care about fucking marks on his neck. But Shane would prefer to be killed than to have to live with what is about to happen to him.

##########

Mac smokes his cigarette while he watches Shane wriggle on the floor. He smiles as he sees the panic set in. The realisation that he can't move. It makes him hard. And once he'd decided on this course of fun, Mac had decided to stop second-guessing himself. He was going to follow his dick, like he always did. But he is wondering how he's going to get at Shane, he isn't stupid enough to think if he releases any part of Shane that he would survive. Shane would beat him to death with his bare hands for what he's done so far, never mind what he's going to do. He'll have to be careful to take his fun, make sure it won't be visible to anyone and get away. That's going to test him, he's never worried about whether he's made a mess of anyone before. But he figures once he's away he'll be safe enough though he'll have to keep an eye out for the next months until Shane transfers back to wherever the fuck he's from. Harley hadn't known other than 'the South' and Mac didn't fucking care anyway.

Shane was a night, maybe a weekend of fun. He'd checked. Shane wasn't on duty until Monday, so he had today and tomorrow to play. And he was going to play. He gets up and opens the fridge. Nice choice of food. Guy liked to eat well. Mac could appreciate that. He makes himself something to eat and makes something for Shane as well though if he doesn't eat he'll give the food to his dog. Might be kind of entertaining to watch them fight over it actually he thinks. He sits on the floor with his plate eating his food then he puts his empty plate on the table and takes the one he's made for Shane down. He forks up some of the food and puts it at his mouth. Shane tries to speak but Mac smacks his head. He won't deal with words. He keeps the food there until Shane gives in and takes it He forces him to eat all the food and then realises he needs water as well. Fuck, he's gonna need to work out the best place to keep him in and how to get him there. He empties a bottle of beer by drinking it himself and then fills it with water from the tap. Won't taste great from the mineral content but it'll do the job. He watches as Shane drinks it. Fucker wants to live he thinks. Good.

##########

Shane chokes on the water, Mac had given it to him straight from the tap. Tasted like sulfur but it was drinkable short-term. He swallows convulsively feeling the material around his neck and his arms stretch as he tries again to see if there is a way loose. Of course there isn't, Mac has tied him expertly, but he hasn't gagged him. Not that he needs to, there is no one within shouting distance to hear him anyway. He fights off a shudder. He still hasn't seen the man's face. He's white, had has bitten dirty nails, a tattoo on each hand, small ones, inked at home. His hands smell like cigarettes and more. Something Shane can't put his finger on. And he's managed to incapacitate Shane like he'd never been incapacitated before, all without Shane having seen his face. Somehow that fact is foremost in his mind, focusing on it is allowing him to forget about what he's expecting to happen to him. All Shane can think is that when he's moved he has to get free. No matter what. But then Mac is standing over his back and pulling up on the rope around his neck. Shane tries to fight it but he can't.

##########

Mac pulls viciously until he sees Shane's head drop and he lets go immediately. He checks for a pulse and then he moves quickly knowing Shane won't be out for long. He undoes the ropes holding Shane's legs up and lets them fall to the ground. Stripping Shane he manhandles his dead weight up and onto the kitchen table. It's an old solid wood one. Very sturdy. He spreads his torso out face down making sure he can breathe and then he pulls a wrist forward and ties it off to the table leg in front of him quickly tying off the other wrist as well. He is careful to put cloth between Shane's rope and his wrist, can't have the law asking questions of its temporary transfer. Then he puts a folded towel over Shane's upper torso and throws rope over it as well before getting down under the table and tying that too. Now for the legs. He grabs more cloth and wraps both Shane's ankles before spreading his legs and tying then roping them in between a block of wood. Shane's legs are effectively imprisoned and spread, all for Mac. He stands back admiring his handiwork. Not bad for a job without thought. He takes a pinch of chaw as he looks at the prize dangling between Shane's legs, and the entrance he's going to fuck. He drags a chair behind Shane and sits there as he chews letting the drug work slowly through his system. He unsnaps his coveralls slowly as he watches Shane's cock and balls swing as he breathes. He wishes he could have the man face up so he would see him in full but knows that can't happen. His cock is stirring in his pants as he stands back up and shrugs his shoulders out of his coveralls, he's wearing only underwear with them as it gets so hot in the cave.

##########

Shane comes to again, his brain is hazy and he can't move when he tries to. He realises he's no longer hog-tied on the floor but as he comes to consciousness again he knows his place is that much more precarious as a result. He feels any kernel of hope he'd had that he would escape when Mac tried to move him evaporate. His muscles clench and spasm in protest while his mind wheels around in circles trying to find an avenue, any avenue of escape. He clears his throat as he hears movement behind him and tries to speak. Only a hoarse groan comes out. He clears his throat again but before he can try to say anything he feels his buttocks wrenched apart and something force its way inside him. He screams at the agony of having his rectum violated by Mac's cock. It simply pushes into him without warning, without preparation. Shane screams again as Mac starts thrusting in and out of him, his hands bracket Shane's hips making sure he stays completely in place, Shane can feel his ragged nails digging into his skin as he feels Mac's cock pound inside him. He's not wearing a condom Shane realises. He knows it's useless to fight though he can't help but try. His wrists pull against his bonds and he tries to move his legs only to find them anchored between something that is heavy and immovable. He finds himself sobbing and saying no. Over and over even as another part of his mind tells him to shut the fuck up and stop being a pussy. None of it makes any difference. He is being raped by this man Mac. A man whose face he has never even seen. Why his mind latches onto that thought he can't say, why would it be better if he'd seen Mac's face? He doesn't know.

Shane feels Mac come inside him and then he feels Mac leaning down, bending over his back, resting his elbows on Shane's shoulders as he catches his breath. Then his elbows dig in as he raises up. He withdraws abruptly and Shane winces at the pain. He can feel Mac's come inside him. It feels hot in his backside. And when Mac withdraws he feels it trickle out of his arse. And he smells blood.

##########

Fuck. Mac sits back in the chair as he continues to catch his breath. Who knew fucking a man would feel like that? It was completely different. Not as wet, but tighter, hotter. And he wanted more. He looks at the man splayed on the table for his pleasure. He sees the blood and his own come dripping out of him, fuck but he'd like to have Shane himself clean it up. His cock twitches again at the thought of watching Shane put his fingers inside himself and scoop Mac out and lick him off his own fingers. Mac leans forward and pushes two of his fingers inside Shane causing him to moan in pain again. Ignoring him he feels around trying to scoop some of himself out to force Shane to lick it off. In doing so however his fingers cruise over a nub inside Shane and he jerks with a muffled groan. Mac frowns and brushes his fingers over the nub again. And again Shane jerks. Mac leans back looking Shane over as he watches his body's response to his fingers pushing that little place inside him. His eyebrows raise as he sees Shane's cock jerk every time he brushes the nub. Whatever the fuck it was his cock sure liked it. From the way it was rising Mac was betting he'd fucking come if Mac kept touching him. And he immediately knows that would somehow be worse than Mac just fucking with him and leaving him. Mac knows that Shane will feel that much worse if he gives him pleasure as well as pain. Mental degradation for this man will be so much worse. It will eat at him until there is nothing left but a morass of pain, suffering and anguish. So he leans in and starts brushing his fingers repeatedly over the nub as his other hand starts to fondle Shane's nuts, rolling them like a pair of billiard balls, slapping them lightly. But his focus is on his fingers brushing that nub. He sets up a rhythm, pull back, thrust in and brush the nub. Like he's fucking him again, which he wants to do. But it could wait. Humiliation first. He leans his head down watching Shane's cock rise and jerk in time with his thrusts. He barely hears Shane moan and plead for him to stop. But he hears when the begging stops and the sounds change. They change to Shane groaning and trying to push himself back on Mac's hand, trying to get Mac to fuck him harder. Mac grins evilly as he stops, keeping his fingers away from the nub and simply stilling them in Shane's arse. And Shane howls. He howls like the fucking dog Mac treats him. And Mac laughs this time as he realises that right now, right this instant Shane is his dog. His bitch. And he's going to fuck with him.

##########

Shane whimpers and ignores his inner voice calling him a fucking pansy, a pussy and a wannabe cunt as he tries to push back on those fingers. Those fucking long and strong fingers. Those fingers have become his entire existence. He is not in pain, he is not dehydrated. He doesn't have a concussion and a pounding headache. He's not thinking that the person giving him this pleasure is the one who has just violated him in the most extreme way a man can be violated. He wants more. He clenches on the fingers as they begin to withdraw and hears the indrawn breath behind him. So he does it again. And suddenly the fingers are back, thrusting in and brushing that spot inside him. He'd read about it of course but never thought about it with regard to himself. He barely hears the question in Mac's voice as he speaks to himself wondering what he was touching. He is too focused on trying to come like he has never come before. For once he is taking and damning the consequences. And so he starts to plead again, this time he is pleading for more. Yes he says, yes.

And Mac complies, Shane feels his fingers withdraw to be replaced by Mac's cock again, this time he's managed to lubricate himself and he eases in, feeling his way trying to find how to move to brush that spot. And when he works it out he starts thrusting viciously, moving across Shane's prostate with each thrust. Shane screams again, this time in pleasure. And he comes, his sperm shooting out of his cock without any further touch on it. He can feel himself clenching around Mac and Mac yelling and coming inside him again as a result. And when he has come down from the best orgasm in his life he feels shame. Just as Mac wanted him to.

##########

Leaning back in his chair again Mac wipes himself off with the tea towel he grabbed off the counter. He'd managed to lube himself up this time, fuck knows why. He shakes off the fact that his conscience tries to tell him he didn't want to hurt the man more than he already had. He looks him over again and sees the look on his face. He looks shattered, like he is nothing. Mac smiles knowing he'd put that look on his face. He picks up the bottle of oil he'd used on himself and he puts it on the counter as he stands up. He drops the tea towel there too. Then he stretches. He hasn't been this relaxed since, he frowns realising he's never been this relaxed in his fucking life. He chokes that thought off quickly. If he starts thinking he's not satisfied with his life it'll be the easiest way to wind up dead. Fucking cocksucker making him think he wanted more. Mac snarls as he turns to look at Shane. And before he knows what he has done he picks up the knife he'd used to get his food before and stabs it into the wood by Shane's hip. Shane flinches but doesn't say anything. Mac starts pacing as he takes a hit of chaw. He continues to pace back and forth losing track of time.

##########

Shane concentrates on breathing through the fear he'd felt jolt through his system when Mac had stabbed the knife into the table. He stays quiet as he listens to the pacing of the man who'd just raped him and given him the most incredible orgasm he'd ever had in his life. He knew he was screwed any way he looked at this. So he decided to not look at it. He was going to simply react to whatever Mac dealt him. And when he left him as he was going to Shane would pick up the pieces and move on as he always did.

A dull ache in his lower abdomen brings him back to the present. Mac is still pacing and Shane is loath to interrupt him but he needs to. So he clears his throat. The pacing stops. And before he can lose his nerve he admits he has to piss. There is a beat of silence and then cupboards open and close and he hears a thud under the table followed by the command of Mac that he piss. He can't help the sigh of relief that comes with the release of his bladder. When he has stopped he hears Mac move behind him again and sit in the chair he has set back there. Shane wonder's what he sees. Him obviously but what does he _see_, what does he _look_ at?

##########

Mac looks at Shane again. He smells come and blood and now urine in the air. He leans his elbows on his knees as he looks at Shane, really looks at him. Yeah he's a fucking man, but he'd taken his shit, and when Mac had found that spot inside him, he'd come back for more. In fact he'd begged for it. Mac felt something stirring inside him. Something fucking stupid because it was a feeling that had no business in his life. He smacked himself in the head and left the house abruptly talking to himself the whole way back to his own, his dog prancing around beside him. The only thing that had ever given him unconditional comfort was the being beside him. He was fucking stupid to think he'd get it from anywhere or anyone else. He opens his truck door and takes out the bag of meth he keeps behind the seat. He needs more now, doesn't need these fucking feelings forcing themselves on him like they did when he'd done Devon's kid sister. He takes the bag with him back to the house and without pausing to think he throws it on the bench. And he takes the knife testing it for sharpness. Then he simply starts carving along Shane's flank. It's awkward because the angle but he's not far gone enough to release Shane to complete it more comfortably and he's too far gone enough to stop. Down he carves managing to be reasonably neat despite Shane's movements. Four letters he carves. Shane is his whether he fucking wants to be or not. Mac owns him now.

##########

Shane screams as Mac cuts him. He tries to move away even though he knows it will do no good. He can only hope he survives. The wounds feel like fire licking down his right side. Then Mac moves to his other side. And the pain begins again. And again he yells. This time Mac stops and cuffs him on the back of the head telling him to shut the fuck up. And he goes back to work. Down his flank, he feels more cuts. He finds himself sobbing at the pain. A dim part of his brain recognises it's not physical pain but mental pain. Mental pain of being bent to someone's will against his own. Shane had been given pleasure tonight with his pain. It made him feel things he didn't want to feel toward the man who'd raped him. The man who'd then given him the most mind-blowing orgasm he'd ever had and had then fucked him again through it taking care with him despite his obvious roughness. And now he was cutting him. Hurting him. Shane turns his head away from Mac, to the right no longer wanting to get a look at the face of the man who now owned him. He looks at his far kitchen wall and he thinks of what he'll do when he's let go. If he's let go. He wants a shower.

After a time he realises Mac as stopped cutting him. He hears him moving around in another part of the house and then he comes back and Shane smells something in the air, before he registers the smell Mac is pressing a cloth to his right side causing him to flinchl at the sting of the antiseptic. He dabs several times and then repeats himself on Shane's left side. And he brushes his fingers over his work with a chuckle. And then he smack's Shane's arse before leaving the room again. Shane hears cupboards open and close and he's back again sitting down behind him.

##########

Marked. He's fucking marked as Mac's now. Anyone who fucks him in the future will know who he belongs to, even if they don't know Mac. His grin is both predatory and evil at the thought of other's trying to fuck what's his and seeing his marks. He palms his cock again, he's ready to go another round. But he want's something different this time. A growl distracts him. It's Shane's stomach. He glances at the clock on the wall and is shocked to realise the day has passed with everything they've done. And now he's aware he's fucking hungry too. He looks at the baggie on the bench but decides he doesn't want it now. He gets up, moving toward the refrigerator and again looks at Shane's offerings. He makes something to eat for himself only this time and he eats sitting looking at Shane's arse, the arse he's going to fuck again before he leaves. He wants to fuck him knowing his mark is on him. He stands when he's finished eating and throws his dishes in the sink before grabbing the oil again and taking it to the table. He squats down and pouring it on his hand he grabs Shane's cock and starts jerking it roughly. Shane groans in protest. At the same time he pours some over his arse and thrusts his fingers inside easily as he's still relaxed from earlier. Mac jerks him erect as he finds that nub inside Shane and starts nudging it repeatedly causing Shane to start moaning in pleasure now. He feels his cock become even harder, Shane is making his own cock hard from just watching him take what Mac's dishing out. Fuck he can take it, cunts can't. Mac feels something stir in him again and again he chokes it off standing up and removing his fingers and simply guiding his cock into Shane's tight arse. He feels his eyes roll in his head as he enters the tightest thing he's ever had the pleasure of fucking. He bends over at an awkward angle so he can keep a hand on Shane's cock for a bit before the fucking becomes too pleasurable for him. Standing he grinds his pelvis into Shane, knowing he's bruising him, wanting to mark him further he thrusts uncontrollably, deliberately slamming his hips into Shane. Angling himself so his cock brushes against that nub he thrusts until he feels the arse around him start to spasm in orgasm and he follows it. When he's finished he drops down on Shane's back resting there. And before he's realised what he's doing Mac drifts off to sleep.

##########

Shane breathes shallowly as he tries not to wake the man sleeping on him. He has lost track of time himself knowing only that it's dark again and has been for some time. His head feels like it's splitting from the inside out and he can't even work up some spit to moisten his mouth. The dog stirs from his place under the table and stands with a soft growl. Then Shane hears tires outside. He tenses thinking to yell but before he does a hand clamps over his mouth and the other moves around his neck choking off his air. He struggles to breathe as Mac tells his dog to be quiet. His house is dark whoever stops there stays in idle for a few minutes and then his phone starts to ring. Shane waits through twenty long rings before it stops and the vehicle moves off. It takes several more minutes before Mac relaxes his hold. He finds himself able to breathe again but pauses in sucking in a deep breath when the bloody knife Mac had used on him is brought into his line of vision. The hand holding it is steady though it reeks of a chemical smell Shane finds familiar but can't place.

"Big bad Deputy was going to call for help? Let people see that you're my bitch? Guess it's true what they say about Southerners being stupid inbreds then huh?" Shane hears his chair being dragged around the table slowly as he talks to him. It's the first time he's asked him any questions though Shane thinks they're rhetorical. He stays silent and moves his head to the opposite side of where Mac is dragging the chair so he doesn't see his face, or even a shadow of it. Then Mac puts on the light. Shane squints against it and as his eyes adjust he feels his head turned back the other way and a towel wrapped around his neck and pulled. He squeezes his eyes shut in pain and denial.

"Open your eyes now bitch." Mac's words are punctuated by a yank on the towel. It's Shane's absolute last vestige of denial and he simply squeezes them shut even tighter. Foul breath that smells like chemicals, tobacco and food from Shane's own fridge assaults him but he keeps his eyes closed. The knife drags slowly across the table and the point then digs into his shoulder causing him to wince in pain. But still he keeps his eyes closed. The knife then draws across his forehead, slowly and surely but not breaking skin this time. It drags along his cheekbone before lifting and tapping a couple of times on his nose causing him to flinch and open his eyes to slits before he remembers and shuts them again. The towel on his neck is suddenly taken in hand and his airway constricted again causing him to gasp. He barely hears the words Mac is saying but he feels the fingers on his jaw prising it open and the towel loosening so slightly it's barely noticeable and then he feels the cock enter his mouth. The fingers on his jaw make it impossible for him to clench down and bite it. And the next words whispered in his ear make sure he won't do it anyway. He grunts an assent to the words and the fingers leave his jaw. And biting back an instinctive gag Shane starts to suck Mac's cock.

##########

Mac's head falls back on his neck as he feels the wet heat of Shane's mouth sucking on him. It's the first time a man has sucked him and it feels even better than a fucking cunt's mouth even though Shane has no idea what the fuck he's doing, it's still better because it's his property taking care of him, property that he has marked as his. It isn't long before he is on the brink. And he finds himself taking Shane's hair in his hands as he starts to fuck Shane's mouth brutally not caring that he's making the man gag. And when he comes he forces his cock as far down Shane's throat as he can causing him to literally gag and vomit Mac's own come back up. Mac withdraws as Shane splutters and chokes and ignores his trouble breathing as he'd tightened his grip on the towel as he came. He falls back into the chair taking note of how Shane turned his head away so he couldn't see him. They both try to get their breath back and silence begins to settle around them. Mac is finished. Sated, happy with what he's done to Shane. He wants to do more but if he does Shane won't be going to work on Monday and he can't have people finding out what he's done to him. So he stands and yanks on the towel again. Constricting Shane's airways until he passes out. He lets go immediately and sets about untying him. Doing up his coveralls he takes up the sap and the ropes he'd used along with the block of wood and calling to his dog he switches off the light and leaves. He forgets about the bag of meth he'd thrown on the counter.

Back in his own place Mac feeds his dog and lets him run around while he showers. He looks at his cock as he washes it. It's covered in oil, come and blood. He ignores his conscience telling him what he'd done was wrong. He'd enjoyed himself as never before and he felt fantastic. Next time he went travelling he'd pick a man-bitch to fuck up. He was sick of cunts. Penning up his dog he falls into bed and sleeps deeply without a thought to the wreck of a man he'd left passed out on his kitchen table.

##########

Around the time Mac is falling into bed Shane is waking up. His head feels like its going to split wide open and he groans which makes it worse, and ducks expecting to be hit for the noise he's making. It's only then he realises he'd managed to put his hand on his aching head. He wasn't chained. The house was dark though. No light on anywhere. He moves his other hand and finds it's free too. So he moves his legs and they respond. He is free. And fuck he is hurting. He slowly pushes his arms on the table, raising himself on his elbows and he stays there for some time listening to the house, sensing it. There is no one around. The house is completely still. He can only hear the wind outside. And a coyote or something in the distance. He slides back on the table until his legs can hold him albeit weakly. And he pushes his palms flat to aid himself in getting up, he walks them back until he is standing gripping the edge of the table. It takes him several minutes to stand without holding onto it though. He looks around in the dark. Thankfully he can see some shadows, knows where the doorway is. He staggers to it stabbing his toe into the stove on the way and cursing hoarsely at this new pain. He aches from head to toe, but the worst pain by far was his head and his anus. He wants to touch both of them but isn't game enough to. He manages to make it to the bathroom and shuts himself in knowing it won't do any good if Mac decides to come back. He doesn't even know where his guns are as they'd been in pieces on his kitchen table until he'd been tied down on it instead. He hopes Mac hasn't taken them. He switches on the bathroom light but doesn't look in the mirror instead getting in the shower and putting the water on hot and hot only. He dunks his head under the water as it starts to heat up ignoring the voice screaming at him about evidence being washed away. Mac had gotten it right, he wasn't going to be reporting this. He starts scrubbing himself down with soap stopping only when his hands brush across his flank down by his hip. Shit that hurts even more. Then he remembers the cuts. He is more gentle with them and those on the other side but he still doesn't look. He finishes in the shower only when the water runs cold and he steps out on the mat and takes a towel drying himself off still without looking. He dabs at the cuts looking at the blood on the towel. It's not just from the cuts he knows. He's bleeding from his backside as well.

Only when he is dry and every possible touch and smell Mac left on him has been obliterated does Shane look in the mirror. His face apart from his swollen eyes looks fine, drawn in pain but that can't be helped. He can fake something there. His neck has no marks on it whatsoever because of the towelling Mac had used. His shoulder was cut, deep but not wide, he could tape that up. He raised an arm and looked at his wrists. No bruises, faint redness but that's all. They were sore and stiff though. He'd need to take care of them with some liniment. He raises both hands to his head feeling along the top of his skull. There it was. A knot the size of a large marble. Hidden by his hair and in a place that wouldn't impede him wearing his cap at work on Monday. He takes some meds for his headache and the pain, thankful he's got strong stuff due having been injured playing college football. And then he checks out the inevitable. Mac had started on his right side first so that is what Shane looked at first as well.

The cuts didn't make sense at first. It is only when he gets a smaller mirror and looks into that, that he realises what Mac has written. His name. He had written his fucking name. Carved it into his flesh. Shane pivots to the other side ignoring his dimming vision. He curses vilely as he reads this word. Suddenly he has black spots in his eyes. He knows he's going to pass out so he drops the mirror in the sink and staggers into the bedroom passing out before he'd even lay down causing him to fall face down across the bed with his legs hanging off the side. His last thought is of making Mac pay. And that he needs to find out what the son of a bitch looks like to do that.

##########

_One month later and Shane has the weekend off again. A long weekend actually. He'd elected to work his roster so he'd have a long weekend. He's healed physically and he thinks he's just about to heal mentally. He'd found his guns scattered on the lounge when he'd woken up the next day. Taking twice as long as he usually would he'd cleaned them while still naked and aching so he'd have something to defend himself with. Then he'd eaten and had another shower before dressing and steeling himself to look in the mirror again. He hadn't been imagining things. Mac had cut his name into his flesh with another word Shane wasn't even going to think about except to wonder what word he could reciprocate with when it was Mac's time. He forced himself to bleach and scrub down the table and the whole kitchen. Then he cleaned the entire house and going against everything in his training and nature given what had happened to him he'd left all the doors and windows open with the screens on to allow the house to air. He fancied he could smell Mac everywhere he walked. In cleaning the kitchen he'd found the bag of meth. It explained the chemical smell he'd been unable to identify. Mac was a cooker of the stuff. That night he did something he hadn't done since high school. He'd taken an illegal substance. He'd crushed it as fine as he could and snorted it. It was surprisingly high quality shit. He refused to let himself take it again but he'd needed it that night. And it had helped him. _

_Now he was ready. He'd spent the last month preparing, researching and stalking his quarry. He knew what he looked like from his mug shot. Even though it was old, there was enough in it he'd be able to distinguish him. And he'd watched that truck around town enough on his patrols to know his haunts. Mac frequented the fucking bar the Sheriff had warned him to leave before ten in the evening. _

_As Shane stepped through the doors of the Luna Mesa it was just past eleven on Friday night. Mac's truck was in the lot._


	2. Shac Chapter 2

Mac looks up as one of the bitches next to him murmurs approvingly. Bitch is looking over at the door. Mac follows her gaze and see's the man stepping through the entrance. He is tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a cap that shadows what Mac knows are hazel eyes as he stands just inside the entrance and sweeps the room visually. Mac curses to himself as he doesn't look away quickly enough and they lock eyes. Or at least he thought they did. Shane's eyes skim over his however leaving Mac unsure if he'd even looked at him. He finds himself uncertain which just pisses him off causing him to snap at the bitch hanging all over him. Fucking cunts can't give him any personal space. Knowing that tone of voice however the two hanging around him step back and look at each other. But they don't move away. None of them ever do. But he knows they have limits he can't push. Which is why he'd been in a good mood this past month, he'd pushed those limits on the man standing in the entryway and he'd been able to take it. Not only had he taken it, he'd asked for, begged for more. Mac wonders what the fuck he is doing here tonight. But he ignores him beyond the look, or makes like he does. He comments about the law slumming and Harley winces and he glances at Shane again before he continues his shot. He keeps an eye out however and makes sure he sends Harley for more drinks.

He realises what a fucking cock-up that was then Harley drags Shane back with him from the bar. Fuck he thinks. He ignores Harley as he introduces him and ignores the hand Shane puts out. He lets it hang there for a minute waiting for Mac to take it but he doesn't leaning over the table and taking his shot instead. Harley jumps in but Shane laughs it off saying he knows some men don't like to be touched by the long arm of the law anyway, freaks 'em out he says. This causes Mac's ears to burn in humiliation. Fucker was making out like he was afraid of him. He wondered what they'd all think if they knew what was carved in the fucking pig's flesh under his clothes. They'd know Mac wasn't afraid to touch him then. Fucking cunts desert him for the pig and he lets them drape themselves all over him like he's fucking used to it. And Mac thinks he probably is, there is no denying he's a fine-looking man. At least with his clothes on. He snorts to himself as he takes a hit of chaw only tuning into the conversation when he hears his name mentioned again. Harley is mentioning that they're neighbours. Fucking fuckwit. Mac nearly smashes his pool cue in his face for mentioning that. But he restrains himself as he catches his father's eye. Old man knows something is going on with him but not what. And fucked if Mac is going to tell him this shit. He remembers how Walter treated those two fags who'd been down here on business a few years back. He continues to play pool ignoring the conversation for the most part until he finds himself paired up with Shane for the next game. Fuck.

Scrubbing his hands over his face he lets go of the cue as Shane takes it to break. Big mistake to stand behind the man. It brought back memories of fucking him that made his cock jump in his jeans. He takes the cue waiting to make his shot and when he does Shane leans over him looking along the cue as if to approve his shot. Before Mac can say or do anything he is gone telling him it's a good shot. He breathes a few times waiting for himself to settle knowing he's losing the battle when the man moves into his vision pressing his thighs on the table, his cock directly in his line of sight. Mac can't help staring at it as he takes his shot. It's blind luck that he makes it. He has his next go shooting before Shane can fuck with him. And the next before he misses again. Handing the cue to Harley he leans back on the wall hooking his fingers around his long neck. He hooks a thumb in a belt loop and pushes out his hips as he puts one foot on the wall behind him. Classic fucking hooker pose he thinks feeling ten kinds of stupid. But he's testing the water. He stays away from the conversation and growls at the one bitch who thinks it's an invitation for her. He ignores the voice telling him to calm the fuck down and he watches Shane like the predator he is.

He is ignored until its Shane's turn to shoot. He takes the cue and puts some chalk on it. And looking over at Mac he blows on the stick. _Fucker_ is all Mac can think. Now he knows he's being fucked with. He narrows his eyes as he finishes his drink. He nearly walks then and there but decides to wait until the end of the game. He ignores Shane now though as he knows or thinks he knows what he's after. As the game finishes though he is surprised that Shane takes his leave of them first, and quickly. He pays his tab while Mac watches and is out the door sliding through the drunks without a ripple. Mac frowns after him and brushes off the bitches that come slinking back now he's gone.

Refusing to acknowledge that he's disappointed Shane didn't stick around despite the fact that he never spoke to him Mac continues to while away his usual Friday night.

He closes the place down like always and finds himself cursing his old man as he walks to his truck. He opens the door and puts one step on the running board when the leg he still had on the ground jolts and gives way on him. He finds himself on the ground twitching as electricity shoots through hm. His last thought before he passes out is that he's in for some payback.

##########

Shane rolls out from under Mac's truck and quickly duct tapes his hands behind his back before slapping some tape over his mouth. He doesn't expect Mac to wake with the voltage he'd shot him with but it was better safe than sorry. He picks Mac up tossing him in the cab of his pick-up and gets in himself shoving the keys in the ignition as he starts it. He takes off his cap so no one can tell his silhouette is not Mac as he drives out of the lot. He drives home past Mac's place. He'd check on the dog first thing in the morning if he needed to. He drives to his place and into the garage. He pulls the truck in and gets out switching off the engine and closing the garage door behind him. He'd had it closed for the past four weeks saying to the Sheriff it kept the dust out for when he worked out. He knew that had gotten around the town. It was normal for the door to be shut now. Leaving the truck lights on Shane opens the passenger door and drags Mac out not being overly gentle. Leaving him in a heap on the floor he goes to light the lanterns he'd put on the bench earlier in the week. He looks at everything spread out there for him. He'll be a lot more gentle on Mac than Mac was on him he thinks. For the most part.

Grabbing the cuffs he'd attached to chains Shane moved back to Mac. He sliced through the duct tape on his wrists tearing it off before he cuffed Mac this time in front. Then he grabbed the chain between the cuffs and pulled, dragging Mac to the pulley he'd rigged up. Slipping the cuffs over the hook he'd set up he started pulling. And Mac began to rise. Shane pulled until Mac was on his feet, stretched but able to stand. Securing the pulley Shane then slides the same block of wood Mac had used on him between Mac's feet. He'd found it thrown carelessly in the shed as Mac had left that night. He unlaced Mac's boots and took them off along with his socks and then he manacled Mac's ankles to the wood so like Mac had done to Shane his legs were spread by the wood, Mac couldn't close them. But given the position he was in he could move them so Shane then tethered Mac's ankles with rope and tied this to some of the machinery in the shed, anchoring him down. A little primitive but it would do. He needed Mac to be still for some of what he'd planned.

Now the fun part. Shane grabbed the shears he'd found and clicking them a couple of times he cut Mac's clothing off him. Letting it fall as it left his body. Standing back Shane forced himself to look at the man he was going to violate in return for his humiliation. He remembered Mac had not known what the prostate was. Well Shane was going to introduce him to it in spades by the time he was done with him. But for the moment he just looked. The man was prime. Hard, work-toughened body, not a gym body like his. Callused hands, nicotine stained fingers. Gorgeous cheekbones and that fucking mole on his upper lip. He had more tattoos as well. Name on his chest and his right forearm. A snake on his thigh that was very appropriate. And when Shane looked at his back he saw the other tattoo, a professional one this time, and well done. Looking closer he realised it was actually two separate tattoos. An angel and a devil. And another devil on his inner right bicep. The man was full of surprises.

Shaking his head and feeling regret with a nice dose of anticipation for the havoc and humiliation he's about to cause Shane picked up the fence slat he'd set on the bench and stepping to the side he swung it at Mac, smacking him on the meatiest part of his arse.

##########

Mac wakes as his arse catches fire. He curses as it's smacked again. And again. He tries to move but can't. He yanks trying to move his hands going crazy when he realises they're handcuffed above his head. He looks around him and sees his truck parked just inside the entrance of the garage. It takes him several minutes to clear the fog the stun gun had given his brain. Several minutes as something repeatedly smacks the shit out of his arse. "Fucking kill you!" They're the first words he speaks. He hasn't seen who it is but he knows, he fucking knows. "Should have killed you after I finished fucking you." His next words cause a pause in his spanking. He hangs his head at the thought that he is being spanked like a naughty boy. Mac was no boy. His rage began to outweigh his fear at being tied up. He was being humiliated exactly as he'd humiliated Shane. "Fucker." He speaks with venom this time. A soft laugh is his only answer before he is smacked again. This time on his back. Harder than before. His body jerks and tries to curl in on itself in defense but he can't move. He sees the same fucking block of wood he'd used on Shane between his legs and the thought of that make his skin crawl. He feels his balls draw up and his cock try to hide. Whatever he'd been hit with clatters on the bench top. And the man moves into the light. He sits down straddling the chair he'd put in front of Mac and folds his arms across the back of it.

"How you doin' boy?" His words are soft and concerned but the unholy amusement in his eyes tells another story. Again Mac feels his balls and cock try to draw up and hide. The fucker notices of course. "Now that ain't gonna do any good you know. Turnabout is fair play don't you think boy?" Mac narrows his eyes at Shane who looks at his cock steadily.

"Not your boy." His words are firm and cold and vicious. But they don't scare Shane.

Merely raising a brow he looks up at Mac and says "Like I'm not your bitch I guess?" He pats his left flank as he says this and Mac breaks out in goose bumps. His mind wheels around and around trying to find a way out of his but there is none. He had caused this situation and now he was reaping the consequences of his actions. Hanging his head he breathes through his fear. Fucked if he was going to beg or yell like a fucking girl. Not like the fucker in front of him had.

"You misunderstand me boy, I'm not going to hurt you." The laugh comes at the end of the words followed by, "For the most part anyway." Mac doesn't know why but that scares him more than anything. "Pleasure or pain, pain or pleasure? Or both? Hmm…." Shane's words trail off as he stands up. Mac can see he's half hard himself and the thought that he might end up with an arse of that cock he'd felt a month ago has his balls filling and his cock jerking. Of course the fucker sees that. He steps around the chair and before Mac can even try to move he grips his neck tightly and his other hand meanders down Mac's body, strokes his neck, over his collarbone, through his chest hair, traces his tattoo and flicks his nipple causing his eyes to roll a little before he regains controls of himself.

The fingers scratch lightly down his sternum, dip in his navel and tickle across his hip causing him to try to flinch away before they glide through his pubic hair and brush the length of his cock. The time they'd taken to reach their goal had made him hard. He tried to will himself soft but couldn't. The fingers were lightly brushing him, barely there, they rolled his foreskin up and over his head and his eyes did roll this time. Fuck, how could a fucker who is cut know someone who wasn't would like that? He jerks trying to move away from the touch as much as he wanted it he couldn't take it. But Shane has him caught.

"You are my boy you know, and you'll carry my name in more ways than one before we're finished here." His fingers suddenly clench down on Mac's cock harshly wringing a groan from him. He is shamed that it is a groan of pleasure. "Oh you liked that didn't you boy? You like pain don't you? Giving as well as receiving. That is interesting. Very interesting." The fingers gentle on him and coax him back to hardness. Mac finds his body betraying him trying to move toward the fingers this time. Like he'd made Shane do when he'd had him at his mercy. Humiliating him with pleasure.

"Fucking cocksucker." He says and Shane steps back before he cracks his palm across Mac's face causing his head to jerk back. His face feels like it's on fire and he feels his fucking traitorous cock jump and pre-come leak from it. Shane laughs at him. He fucking laughs at him. "Gonna fucking get you back for this you cocksucker, gonna make you pay." His words fall from his lips without him realising.

"Oh I hope you'll try boy, I hope you'll try." Mac hangs his head as Shane moves away. He hears him moving and doing something behind him but can't turn to see what. His mind flits around as he again tries to find a way out. And it is in doing that, that he realises what Shane had said before He was going to carry his name in more ways than one.

"Fucker, you looked up my file. That's illegal you know." Shane merely snorts behind him.

"So call a cop." He says with a laugh. Coming back to the front of Mac he's holding a blow torch and something Mac can't work out. It looks like a…his mind screams at him as Shane flicks on the blow torch and starts running it over the other end. The end Shane is holding is protected from the heat so he can continue to hold it. Mac struggles impotently against his bonds, his wrists feel slick and it is only glancing up that he sees they're bloody. His ankles are bleeding as well from where they've dug into the wood. Shane watches him in amusement. Mac finds his eyes caught with Shane's hazel ones.

_Fuck_ he thinks. But he doesn't give up, Mac doesn't have a bone in him that will allow him to give up. He watches Shane watching him and he starts to struggle again.

##########

_Beautiful_ Shane thinks. He is beautiful like a caged animal that walks the same path day after day looking for a way out, never giving up. Shane continues to heat the first brand. They had taken him a long time to fashion correctly as they needed to be shaped backwards so they would be readable to others when they saw them. He had two, just like Mac had carved two words into his flesh, he would put two brands on Mac. His name and another word that was just as demeaning as the one Mac had put on him. "So your full first name is your mother's maiden name, it's a nice tradition, I like it. And kinda appropriate given that its my name too now ain't it?" Shane watches him stop struggling as he speaks. _Beautiful_ he thinks again.

Without warning he flicks off the blow torch and presses the first brand into Mac's flank on the right side mimicking where Mac had cut his name into Shane. Shane's eyebrows raise as Mac merely clenches his teeth at the burn that had to be ferocious and hisses out a breath as he continues to look at Shane. There is death in his eyes. But Shane isn't afraid. He doesn't want to tame this one, he doesn't want to break him, he wants to stand beside him as an equal. And to do that he needs to get on his level before he can bring Mac up to his own. Shaking his head at his stupid musings Shane pulls the brand away leaving scorched scarred skin in its place. He tosses the brand down not needing it anymore. Then he picks up the second one and flicks the torch on again and starts to heat it.

"Trying to make me love you?" The question is breathless because no matter what Mac didn't display he was in pain. Shane raises an eyebrow at the question. And then he lowers his gaze. Mac is rock hard and pre-come is leaking copiously from his cock now. It is dripping on the floor steadily. Flicking off the blow torch Shane walks back to the bench putting it down along with the partially heated brand. He grabs something else instead.

"You like pain then do you boy?" He strokes what he has in his hand over Mac's face causing him to jerk back away from it trying to see what it is. But he refuses to look down as Shane trails it down his chest. He wonders briefly at the name on Mac's chest before he presses the object directly on Mac's nipple causing him to flinch and his cock to jump. Shane smiles as Mac draws back his head and spits in his face. The spittle lands on his cheekbone and slides down dropping off his chin to land on his shirt. "Oh pup, you really like pain don't you? Don't you worry baby, Shane is gonna take really good care of you, get you where you need to be, give you all kinds of pleasure." He sees Mac shudder at his words and smiles before he takes the object in his hand and clamps it on Mac's nipple following up with clamping the other nipple as well. The chain dangling between the clamps has a weight on it and every time Mac moves, the chain moves causing bolts of sensation to move down his body to his groin. "Think we'll wait for that burn to settle a bit before we do the second one, let's have some fun in the meantime though, you with me boy?"

##########

Inhaling deeply Mac tries again to break free of his bonds. But Shane has immobilized him completely. His wrists are bleeding freely and his ankles have started to as well. The blood from Mac's wrists is slowly running down his arms. He looks down at the clamps Shane has put on his nipples. They've turned a deep cherry colour and they're stinging like shit. Mac refuses to recognise his cock is enjoying it. His right side is on fire, the burn radiating heat like nothing he has ever felt. What he's feeling now tops even what he'd done to Shane. Except for taking life that is. Mac thought that was the greatest aphrodisiac. Shane however was teaching him the error of his ways. Mac was beginning to think Shane was his greatest aphrodisiac, except not him doing Shane, Shane doing him. He was trembling in pained pleasure.

Yet he'd be fucked if he'd ask for more. Mac bowed to no man, not anymore. But his mind wheeled endlessly trying to figure out how to turn this to his advantage. He could, he could maybe force Shane to give him more? He knew there was a second brand, could he make Shane give him more than that even? Feeling the pain of the spanking Shane had dealt him Mac feels his backside twitch with the anticipation of Shane fucking him. He hung his head making like he was afraid but in reality trying to figure out how to get more. He sees Shane's boots come into his range of vision but doesn't look up. Then Shane lifts his chin with a hand until Mac's eyes meet his. He is surprised when Shane strokes a hand over his cheekbone, he unconsciously leans into the touch before realising what he was doing and jerking back. But it is too late. Shane had felt that pressure of him leaning. A smile blooms across his face, a face Mac wants to smash to smithereens and fuck in equal measure.

There is no way out of this Mac realises. Shane will keep him here. He has days. Harley had mentioned him having a long weekend. Who knew how long Shane was planning to keep him? Walter, the only person who would look even remotely like missing Mac wouldn't be bothered by not hearing from him until his cooking orders had backed up.

But he won't give, Shane will have to kill him first. As he swears that to himself Shane leans in and kisses him on the lips. Mac opens his mouth under Shane's without even thinking about it, inviting him in. Shane's tongue winds into Mac's mouth and Mac clamps his teeth down on it drawing blood. Instead of trying to get away Shane pushes his tongue in further and one of his hands grabs Mac by the back of the neck and pulls his hair. The other hand however reaches for the chain attached to the clamps and pulls on it. Mac breaks away with a gasp unable to stop his reaction. His cock jumps madly and pre-come drips steadily from him now. Shane chuckles as he hawks and spits a globule of blood on the floor. He wipes his face as he looks at Mac. "Think you're the only one who likes pain boy?"

##########

Shaking his head Shane looks down at Mac's cock. It is purple, the veins standing out on it are even darker. It has not had a touch on it but it looks on the verge of exploding in orgasm. The foreskin has drawn back exposing the head. "Beautiful." He says again. He is tempted to touch it but knows Mac will go off like a rocket and he's determined that Mac will, if not beg then at least ask or even demand to be touched. And then and only then Shane will think about touching him.

Heading back to the bench Shane takes up the blow torch and the second brand again. He starts heating it as he moves to stand at Mac's left side this time. "You know I don't have a problem with you carving your name into my flesh when I really think about it. Kinda surprises me that I don't but there you have it. But," He stops heating the brand for a second to level Mac with a look before continuing, "I have a real problem with being your bitch. Don't appreciate that at all." So saying he finishes heating the second brand and presses it directly onto Mac's skin, again mimicking the position of the second word Mac had carved on his body. "You might have made me your bitch, but I just made you my boy. And since you like pain so much I might just add to that…boy." He pulls the brand away and tosses it as well. Taking the blow torch back to the bench Shane simply rests his palms on it for a few minutes. He knows Mac can't see him at present and let's himself go breathing deeply trying to centre himself.

This man was fucking psychotic he thought. He'd used and abused Shane, he'd carved his name literally into Shane's flesh. And when Shane had decided turnabout was fair play he'd expected Mac to have the same reactions he'd had. But he didn't. Apart from the usual threats at the beginning he'd been mostly silent, no screams, no yells. Only that question 'are you trying to make me love you?' What kind of fucked up question was that anyway? And was he trying to make Mac love him through pain? How fucked up was he? Hearing movement behind him Shane turns and sees Mac trying to turn around to see him, he was looking for Shane. Shane raised his eyebrows as he watched Mac without a word or a sound tried to move around and see Shane. He wondered what was in Mac's eyes now but knew they'd be closed to him if he moved around to look into them. They were not going to give to each other, or at least Mac was not going to give to him he thought.

Palming his cock Shane takes up the oil Mac had used on him. He undoes his pants and pulls out his cock gliding the oil on it. Then he walks back to Mac who had stilled when he heard Shane start moving again. He grabs Mac by the hips avoiding the burns and slides his cock between his arse cheeks. Mac inhales sharply and his body tenses but that is all. Shane slides between Mac's cheeks several times before he stops and then lines himself up before beginning to force his way inside Mac's anus. The chains rattle as Mac tenses even more. He breathes shallowly as his head hangs back and by accident ends up on Shane's shoulder. Shane is shocked that Mac doesn't' move it when he realises where it is resting. He keeps forcing his cock inside, inch by inch until he is fully seated in Mac's backside. Leaning over Mac's other shoulder he looks down at his cock with a grin. "Hmm, that looks good enough to eat pup." He sees Mac's cock jump in response to his words and he grins as he feels his arse clench around his cock. "So boy, got a lesson for you." He begins thrusting as he talks, his words a little breathless as he moves. Fuck Mac is the tightest he's ever fucked. He's gonna ruin Shane for fucking anyone else he just knows it. But he doesn't stop his slow inexorable movements, like water finding the easiest path downhill he's looking for something. He starts speaking again as his cock drifts over Mac's prostate. "There it is, that little thing you liked fucking with inside me? Well boy, you got one too." So saying he pulled out of Mac and then rammed himself home immediately making sure he brushed Mac's prostate as he did so. Mac moaned. And Shane grinned.

##########

Mac can't help groaning again as Shane starts to thrust in and out of him making sure he brushes over that spot, that nub that he'd thought was unique to Shane. That he has one too, his eyelids flutter closed as Shane keeps brushing that spot on him. His cock is jerking without a touch on it. If Shane keeps going Mac knows he's going to come as well. He wants nothing more than to orgasm now but he fights against it thinking of it as a sign of weakness. He will not come from Shane fucking him.

But Shane has other ideas. He leans in to Mac his hands leaving off his hips, brushing up his sides avoiding the burns for the moment and he scratches his short blunt nails over Mac's stomach and chest firmly. Mac's head, he finds he can't keep it off Shane's shoulder. He gives up on that thinking if he leaves it there he can just focus on not coming. He pants and groans again despite himself. Shane is humming in his ear as he leans over his other shoulder looking down at his cock. "Beautiful." He says again.

Whey he keeps using that word with regard to Mac he doesn't know but every time he does it sends a shiver through Mac, it makes him feel things he refuses to feel. If he were free he would have beaten Shane within an inch of his life if he'd called him that. Mac feels himself being unraveled from the very core of his being. The way this man has dealt with him on his own fucking level is making Mac want more of it, of him. His arms struggle again to get free so he can beat Shane, beat himself. But he is caught. He can do nothing but submit. The realisation that this is what he'd done to Shane a month ago springs into his brain. Why was he getting such pleasure from being on the receiving end? His mind will not switch off. He wants more, he needs more.

"More." The word torn from his throat before he even realises he's spoken.

"There you are boy, was that so hard now?" And suddenly Shane is there thrusting inside Mac, his cock impossibly feels bigger, longer, harder. Mac groans louder this time letting himself go. He can put himself back together later when he's on his own, there is no thought that Shane will not let him go. One of his hands pulls lightly on the chain attached to Mac's nipple clamps and he finds himself moaning like a fucking whore this time as he jerks uncontrollably. Fuck he was close.

"Fuck me like you mean it, not a fucking pussy Bitch!" His words have the opposite effect. Shane stills completely inside him. Not moving, barely breathing.

"You want to come do you boy?" His words are soft, drawled. He moves infinitesimally back and forth wringing another fucking moan from Mac before he can help himself. He's going to fucking crush Shane like a bug when he's finished, he's going to gut him like a fish and eat his liver. Except if he does that he won't get this anymore. He won't get this pain, this pleasure. This pure absence of anything but a focal point of want, need.

"Yes," He can't say anymore, he doesn't know how to beg, has never begged in his life. But Shane gets that he realises as he starts fucking him again. Fucking him like a man. Hard, fast, violent. His fingers suddenly grab the chain clamping Mac's nipples and yank causing the clamps to bite in before sliding off. Mac screams in agony.

And he comes. His vision fades until he sees nothing but grey. He cannot hear anything. He can only feel his orgasm as it continues on, taking over his entire body as his cock erupts, sperm shooting from him in time with his heartbeat. He feels like he's never going to stop coming. As he finally feels himself tapering off Shane glides his fingers up over Mac's hips where they'd been digging in as he fucked him through his orgasm. Mac realises Shane hasn't yet come. Before he registers anything else however Shane digs his fingers into the burns he'd put on Mac, pushing his fingers into Mac's burned flesh as he starts to tear Mac apart with his thrusts.

Mac finds himself coming again. It is nothing like he has felt before. He has never been able to be aroused to this point so quickly in his life as Shane had just done to him. From one period of Mac forcing himself on Shane, Shane had somehow figured Mac out to the point that he was playing his body like a fucking banjo. Mac drops his head back onto Shane's shoulder. It was as solid as a fucking brick, might as well take advantage of it. He breathes slowly trying to catch his breath.

The pain in his sides from the burns was overtaking his pleasure. He wonders what the fuck Shane has burned into him. He'll find out soon enough he thinks. He feels Shane begin to withdraw from him and he clenches his muscles tight against him in refusal.

"Fucking come in me, fucking pussy." He feels Shane still behind him again. He's fucking sick of the pussy's hesitation. He starts to clench his muscles even though they protest. Mac has never had a cock inside his arse before he can tell he's going to be feeling this for some time. But if he is it should be worth it. He is too immobilized to move his hips much but Shane gets the message and moves as much as Mac's clenched muscles will allow until he boils over into an orgasm. Mac feels his hot come inside him and wonders if Shane felt the same. It felt like nothing on earth. Knowing he had the essence of another person inside him. He wished he could keep it there. Fuck, Shane was turning him into a fucking pansy. He grunts in frustration at the thought but is smart enough to realise he wouldn't be feeling this way if he wasn't bound hand and foot. He's also smart enough to realise that being bound allows him the freedom to feel what he'd normally be too fucked up in the head to feel. The chains give him freedom. And he shakes his head at his fucked up thoughts.

"Let me down." He states this simply without demand, without question.

"No."

##########

Shane withdraws from Mac In one movement. He looks down at his cock, covered in oil, his own come and Mac. Swiping a finger through it he tastes them. They are bitter on his tongue. He walks around in front of Mac to look at him. His semen has splattered all over the floor. Shane looks him up and down. He is bloody, his wrists and ankles raw from his struggles. His cock is softening, the foreskin sliding back down over the head. Shane wishes Mac would clean his own cock up but knows better than to even attempt it. But, without hesitation he kneels in front of Mac and takes his softening cock into his mouth. His tongue swirls around Mac's cock, slipping under the foreskin to clean the head. He lets it pop out of his mouth with a lewd wet sound and he simply leans his head on Mac's stomach above his pubic bone. He kneels there for some time without moving, just breathing the scent that is Mac in and out. "What have you done to me?" He murmurs the question to himself not expecting an answer.

Rising Shane doesn't look at Mac. He walks out of the garage and over to the house. He moves into the bathroom and strips off completely turning on the shower and scrubbing himself down. He felt just as dirty after what he'd done as when Mac had done it to him. And yet, he'd found a sick pleasure in what he'd done as well. Getting out Shane towels himself down and does what he does every time he dries off these days. He looks at his scars. Down his right side is Mac's name with an S. And down his left side is the word bitch. Shaking his head again Shane re-dresses and taking up what he'd left on the kitchen table he walks back to the garage. Mac is still there, from the look of the dried blood he hadn't even tried to get free. Without looking at him Shane puts the kit on the bench and gets out the swabs and medical alcohol. He soaks he swabs and presses them directly on Mac's burns ignoring his pained sounds. Then he gets the antibiotic burn cream he'd bought especially when he'd decided what he was going to do and applied it to both burns before he put dressings on them. "Need to keep the dressings on until they scab over." He says no more as he leans up and unhooks the chain holding Mac's wrists above his head. He steps out of the way letting Mac fall painfully to his knees. While Mac is trying to move his arms down below his shoulders Shane moves around the back and unlocks his ankles. He tosses a pair of sweatpants down in front of Mac telling him to put them on. He cleans up after himself while Mac manages to get himself up and to balance enough to put the sweatpants on. Shane grabs his boots and walks to Mac's truck tossing them in. The rest of Mac's clothes are ruined so he leaves them on the bench. The brands he takes and twists them until they're unrecognizable to anyone else who will ever come across them. Then he turns to Mac who is standing in the middle of the garage in his own sperm. Shaking his head Shane walks over and grabs his arm, hauling him to his truck he pushes him into the passenger seat. Then he gets in the driver's seat again and backs out after opening the doors. He drives the short distance to Mac's place and switches off the engine getting out. He greets the dog and it stops barking. Then he gets Mac out of the truck and walks him inside. He is surprised by the filth Mac lives in as despite his smell he's usually reasonably clean. Shaking his head he pushes Mac down the hall until he finds the bedroom. He helps him to the bed and puts down the medical supplies he'd brought home for Mac to use. Then he leans over Mac and shakes him until he looks at Shane.

"Use the shit I've left for you." He turns to leave only to be brought up by Mac speaking.

"Why?"

"Because burns are tricky, easy to infect yourself, you could die." He goes to leave again but Mac speaks.

"Not that, why didn't you fucking kill me?" Why indeed Shane thinks. He'd thought about it, knew he could have done it and gotten away with it.

"I don't know, if I ever figure it out I'll be sure and let you know. Go to sleep now boy." He turns to leave again and this time Mac doesn't stop him. Shane takes food for the dog out with him and he feeds the dog sitting on the steps as he lets him run around the yard before he refills his water and pens him back up. Then he walks back to his own house.

As he's going to bed himself he wonders what payback Mac will plan for him this time. And as he strokes himself to another orgasm he wonders only how soon it will happen.

##########

Mac doesn't look at what Shane had burnt into his flesh until he'd had the dressings off for a week and a whole two weeks had passed since Shane had branded him. He'd started thinking of it that way as it gave him a sick thrill at the thought that he'd been branded instead of burned. He'd stopped wondering at himself and his feelings. He'd looked at other men and didn't feel a fucking thing, it was this fucking Southern inbred cop that made him feel shit he had no business feeling, wanting or thinking he fucking needed.

When he looks in the dingy mirror in his bathroom and sees that he has Shane's name exactly as he'd done he knows that whats on his left side will be exactly the same as what he'd carved into Shane. But he is wrong. The word stands out, three letters, all capitals. Mac's lips thin as he looks at it. Rage threatens to overwhelm him but he fights it back. This is what had gotten him in the fucking mess in the first place. But he'd be fucked if he was going to let this slide past without any kind of payback. It's Friday now. He calculates and then looks at the sun thinking Shane would be finished work by now. Dragging on a shirt he leaves it unbuttoned as he walks outside. He takes his dog out of the pen and they walk up to Shane's place. As he gets closer he hears thuds coming from the garage and he frowns. That fucker better not have anyone else in there. Mac and his dog walk to the garage and he opens the small door set into the large sliding one.

Eyebrows raising in surprise Mac stands and watches Shane workout, punching the bag he now had hanging in place of Mac himself from the chain dangling from the ceiling. Shane hasn't seen him. What he sees first is Mac's dog as it lopes forward to greet him. Fucker never took to anyone but Mac until now.

"You do this shit every day?" Mac asks in place of a greeting as he walks toward Shane. Payback is forgotten. He walks slowly and has his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his pants, he hasn't bothered doing up his shirt on the way. He feels his cock twitch as he watches Shane watching him. He is half-naked and sweaty and Mac wants to fuck him until he bleeds.

"Part of the job." He says no more and backs toward the bench not taking his eyes of Mac and takes up the towel he had on it wiping himself down getting rid of the sweat which Mac wasn't happy with.

"Not here it ain't," He answers with a snort thinking of the overweight law in the town. Well, except for Harley, but he was Mac's so he didn't count anyway.

"Part of the job where I'm from then." He slings the towel around his neck as he leans back on the bench and crosses his legs watching Mac move toward him. Mac wants something but he doesn't know what. He stops a couple of paces away from Shane and just looks at him. Tall, broad shoulders, tanned skin. Strong hands and muscular legs hidden under his sweatpants. He is barefoot tonight.

Finding himself staring at Shane's cock Mac realises what he wants and he steps forward kneeling down as he does so. Shane doesn't move though he inhales sharply. His hands fist on the towel he's still holding. But he stays silent. Letting Mac decide what he's going to do. Mac peels the damp sweat pants down until Shane is exposed to him. His cock is already filling. Leaving the sweatpants at mid-thigh Mac looks at Shane's cock. It is thick and circumcised unlike his own. He strokes it lightly, the way he likes to stroke himself before he gets serious.

The faintest of groans comes from Shane. Mac looks up at him with a smile that makes Shane think of snakes crawling through Eden. "You like that bitch?" The question is soft. Before Shane can answer Mac leans in and takes his cock inside his mouth. This wasn't what he'd come here for but it was just as good. He started to suck thinking of what he liked being done to him. One of his hands started fondling Shane's balls, jiggling them, bouncing them lightly.

"Touch yourself for me boy, I want to see you jack off at the same time." Shane's words are hoarse, his voice is heavy with arousal.

"Bite me." Mac answers but he finds his hands pushing his own sweatpants down over his arse so Shane can see him fondle himself at the same time.

"I wish you would." Shane's words inflame Mac beyond reason. He starts jerking himself off in earnest knowing he won't last long with the visions running through his head that Shane's words have put there.

But he obeys Shane. Closing his other hand around the base of Shane's cock he looks up to find Shane looking down at him his hands still holding the towel. When he catches eye contact with Mac, Shane's hands move from the towel to Mac's hair. They slide through it gently before they grasp it harshly and pull. Mac moans around Shane's cock and pulls himself harder as he sinks his teeth into Shane and drags them along his cock. He sucks as much as he can into his mouth and swallows the pre-come dripping from it. Swirling his tongue around the head of Shane's cock Mac let's most of it slide out of his mouth until he's nursing just the head as if it were a nipple. And then looking back up at Shane he slowly clenches his jaw on it until his teeth are holding it captive, then he pushes them down Shane's cock. And he comes, Mac swallows his come without even realising he's doing it. He strokes himself roughly a few more times and spurts on the garage floor once again.

When he has cleaned Shane he pulls off his cock doing what Shane had done to him, resting his head on Shane's stomach as he got his own breath back and pulled up his sweats. He rests both hands on Shane's thighs before he pulls his pants up too. And then he stands. The aftertaste of Shane is still on his tongue, it is salty and it lingers. But he'd fucking swallowed he thought.

"Not that I'm not grateful for the blow job, but was this why you came down?" Shane asks as he rolls his shoulders and steps forward and begins to walk to the entrance of the shed.

"Wanted to know if you were ever gonna come back to the bar." Rolling his own shoulders at the stupid question Mac follows Shane out of the shed watching while he shuts the door.

"You askin' me to go back with you?" Shane asks this as he heads to the house Mac following behind with his dog.

"Got a problem if I am?" There is a challenging tone in Mac's voice.

"Nope, just curious. Never been asked on a date by a dude before." Shane tosses a smile at Mac knowing exactly what he's done as he looks at the shocked look on Mac's face. Then it turns violent which causes a jolt of want to flash through Shane. He regains control of himself before he does anything however. "We can stay here if you want." Shane offers.

"No, I want to play." Mac says. "Fuck, I want to play pool." He feels stupid and awkward speaking to Shane. "With you." He finishes.

"Let me shower, then we can go." Shane tosses a grin at him as he strips down in the kitchen throwing his towel and sweatpants into the laundry before he walks naked to the bathroom. Mac follows behind him feeling like a fucking puppy. His dog settles under the kitchen table. Leaning on the door jamb Mac watches Shane step into the tub and turn the water on. He soaps himself down economically and washes his hair the same way and then he steps out of the tub. Mac sees his name on Shane's right side and he moves forward brushing his fingers over it. Before he can move back Shane's hand grasps his. They look at each other for the longest time without moving. Then they let each other go and Mac backs away.

After hanging up the towel Shane moves to the bedroom grabbing a pair of cargos he steps into them sans underwear and pulls a plain black t-shirt over his head. Then he looks at Mac before opening his drawer and pulling out another pair of cargos and tossing them to him. He roots around some more and finds a belt for him to use as well.

"You want me to wear your fucking clothes?" Mac takes the pants but make no move to put them on.

"I'm the only one that gets to see you in sweatpants, should be fuckin' illegal the way your fuckin' cock looks in 'em boy." Shane put's his hands on his hips as he looks at Mac waiting for him to change. Rolling his eyes Mac strips off the sweatpants that are actually the ones Shane had given him to get home in two weeks ago and he changes into the cargos, also without underwear. Fitting on the belt he cinches it loosely so it hangs obscenely low on his hips exposing his hipbones to Shane's hungry gaze. "Buttons." Shane waits while Mac huffs and does up his shirt buttons. They walk out together without touching and without conversation they continue down to Mac's where he pens up his dog. They get into his truck and drive to the bar.

##########

Shane wonders what the fuck he is doing as they walk into the bar. It's busy like it was the last night he'd come in. He sees the bartender look them over and his eyes narrow on Mac. Shane immediately bristles at the way he looks at Mac though he doesn't know why. They head to the pool tables instead of ordering drinks and Mac snags a waitress giving her their order. Greeting the other's he'd met last time they settled in comfortably though he could feel the bartender looking at them often. They've been there an hour or so, playing, laughing with the others. It's a side of Mac Shane never thought he'd see.

And its ruined when the women arrive. They climb all over Mac as if they're a vine and he's a post. Shane feels his teeth grind together. But he doesn't say anything. He catches Mac's eye and looks through him when Mac cocks an eyebrow and smiles at him. His mind is screaming at him to claim Mac and he's doing his best to ignore it. But Mac doesn't help matters encouraging the women to play with them, putting his fucking hands on them while Shane watches. And he keeps looking at Shane.

Suddenly the penny drops. Mac doesn't have it in him to ask for anything. Shane realises that he's trying to make him jealous, trying to make him do something so he'll take Mac, brand him. Make it known that he's his. But Shane isn't sure if he means for it to be public. He catches Mac's eye suddenly. "Here?" He asks. Mac simply nods. Fuck. He does want public. Shane looks around at all the people and the women. He's ready to smash their faces in for touching his property.

Taking the last of his beer Shane puts down the bottle and then grabs the closest woman by the scruff of the neck. "Darlin', go play with someone else, that man there belongs to me." He pushes her away with some force so she careens into the other female trying to snake her hands down Mac's pants. Reaching over he grabbed her wrist and flicked her away as well. Then he turned to Mac. Reaching his arm out he snags his hand around the back of Mac's neck. Leaning their forehead together for a few seconds to be sure it's what Mac wants Shane then leans in and kisses him. Long, slow and languid. He hears the bar sounds drop away until there is nothing but the jukebox in the background. No one dared say anything as they broke apart. "Enough?" He asks Mac. Mac nods.

"Let's settle up and get the fuck out of here." He pulls Shane with him toward the bar. Once there he introduces Shane to the bartender who is the owner and Mac's father. Shane frowns at the way he treats Mac. He doesn't like it at all. Putting a hand possessively in the small of Mac's back they walk out as sounds begin to pick up again.

Once they're in the truck on the way back Shane turns to Mac. "Why did you make me do that?"

Mac doesn't answer for several minutes. They've driven back and are pulling up at his place when he does. "I wanted them to know you were taken."

"Me? Then why the fuck did I end doing what I did? You that much of an emotional retard?" Shane looks at Mac without moving to get out of the truck.

"I don't have feelings." He jumps out of the truck and goes inside slamming the door behind him. Shane sits there in shock and fury. He'd made a fucking fool out of himself for a fucking emotional retard. He gets out of the truck and crossing to Mac's dog gives him a goodnight pat and then walks home. The sooner his time in this dust bowl was over the better.

##########

Another month passes. Mac watches Shane work, work out and do nothing else. He goes nowhere, does nothing else with anyone in town. He knows he's fucked up. But he doesn't know how to fix it. No one else had come near him physically since Shane had let them know he was taken. But his father was beginning to piss him off. Telling him he needed to take care of Shane before he took care of him. Shane knew what he did, he knew he'd figured it out. And he hadn't turned him in yet. It is another Friday night and Mac is heading home late. He passes Shane's place and on instinct pulls in behind his jeep shutting off the engine. Taking a breath he gets out of his truck heading to the kitchen door. Before he can knock however it opens. Shane is standing there. He looks at Mac before stepping back and letting him inside. He heads into the bedroom and Mac follows. Stopping at the foot of the bed he turns around "You want to fuck me or you want me to fuck you?" He is stripping as he speaks. Mac finds himself stripping as well. He's just wearing coveralls today, and nothing else. He unlaces his boots and toes them off and unsnaps his coveralls and pulls them off his shoulders and lets them drop. Stepping out of them he looks at Shane standing there stroking his cock. He looks at his carvings and brushes a hand over the word boy burned into his side.

"You fuck me." He goes to the bed and gets down on his hands and knees in the centre of it. Shane moves to the bathroom and returns. But he surprises Mac when he speaks.

"Get on your back, I'm gonna fuckin' look at you boy." Shane climbs on the bed kneeling between his spread legs when he has turned onto his back. "Jerk off, this ain't gonna take long now." Shane spreads his cock with something then tosses the tube on the floor. He lines up with Mac's entrance and without further ado pushes himself inside. He doesn't stop, doesn't allow Mac time to get used to being breached. He causes pain and he causes pleasure at the same time. As Mac knew he would. As Mac now craves.

"Fuck yes," His words trail off as he feels himself filled, he feels complete again. The burn is giving away to pleasure but he doesn't want that. Leaning up he latches his mouth onto Shane's neck and he bites as hard as he can. Shane's cock jerks inside his arse and he starts to move. Hard and fast without rhythm. It is perfect. He is perfect. Leaning back Shane kneels up bringing Mac with him and then before Mac knows what he is doing Shane pinches his nipples as hard as he can. When he lets go Mac lays back down on the bed. And pulling back an arm Shane slaps him across the face with an open palm.

"Yes," the word is torn from him as he feels his cock jerk without a touch on it. His hands reach for Shane and he scratches his broken nails down Shane's chest causing him to moan and curse. "More." Shaking his head Shane braces his knees and gives him more. Hard, fast and violent he takes Mac fucking him into the bed and beyond. Mac reaches for that place where everything is blank and as Shane releases inside him he finds it as well.

Shane collapses on Mac squeezing his come between them, over both their stomachs. Mac releases a sigh as he legs his legs drop back down on the bed. "You gonna stay or are you gonna fuck off again?" Shane isn't talking about physically fucking off he knows.

Before he can allow himself to fuck it up again Mac says simply "Need to get my dog first." Shane nods as he pulls out of Mac and gets off the bed. He comes back with a cloth that he wipes Mac over with and then he takes it back to the bathroom. He comes back and drags his sweatpants back on again and throws the sheet over Mac who is dozing.

"Be right back." Mac simply nods as he continues to doze. He falls into sleep and doesn't hear Shane leave the house and return with his dog that he settles in the kitchen. He doesn't hear Shane clean his teeth and use the toilet or feel him settle beside him in bed. He doesn't feel Shane stroke his hand over his face, glide over his cheekbone and through his hair. He doesn't feel Shane gather him close and wonder to himself what the fuck he is doing.

When Mac wakes it is morning and he is alone in bed. But the pillow next to him smells like Shane.


	3. Shac Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**_Three months later…_**

Shane is sick of arguing. They've been round and round in circles. He can't stay and Mac won't leave. So he's come up with a half-arsed solution that might fit. Mac looks at him. "Every two months? Half way?" He shakes his head and thinks. "It's doable if we're careful, have to make sure up front we've got the time, don't want to get there and be on my fucking own." He grips the back of Shane's neck tightly as he says this. Shane merely leans into him in response.

"But you've got to get a fucking phone man." Mac snorts and nods before he leans in and bites Shane's shoulder sucking at the same time. He's been doing it all week making sure Shane goes home covered in his bruises. His carvings are fading; in time they'll be white lines like his own brands. They both wear them with pride. "And we call each other, every week no matter what. If one of us misses that call we do the same time each day until we hear. If we don't hear after a week we come looking. Deal?"

"Deal. No one gets to mess you up but me." Mac is serious. And Shane wouldn't have him any other way. Letting him in had been the easiest decision Shane had ever made in his life. The lines between legal and illegal blurred for him like they did for no other. Shane wasn't furious at life anymore because in being envious of Rick's life and then getting out hand with a prisoner he'd been given a transfer and that had gifted him Mac. He knew they were fucked up, but they were each other's fucked up.

He didn't care what other's thought of them, the only opinion he wanted or cared about these days was that of the sociopath sitting beside him in bed. Shane's mouth watered as he looked at him. Lean, pale skin stretched over his bones. His body was now littered with cuts and burns from him. Each one marking some moment they'd gone just far enough for Mac to find what he called his 'white space' a vacuum Shane guessed it was. A vacuum, absence from his shitty life. But a life he wasn't willing to change. And to be honest if he did he wouldn't be Mac. But Shane worried about one thing.

"I don't care that he's your old man, you need to kill the fucker before he kills you." He'd been saying this for the past month when Walter had stated Devon was bringing his sister home and he was going to stay. They'd be arriving in about six months or so when he finished law school. Shane wanted Mac to move with him, or both of them to move somewhere else altogether. "I don't care what the fuck you did to her, you were off your fucking face, that fuckwit drugged you, you weren't responsible. Let it go." His turn to grab Mac.

Mac leans into Shane, he drags him forward by the hair and pulls him down opening himself for Shane. Shane can't say no, he can never say no to Mac.

* * *

**_Seven months later…._**

_The phone rings out again. This is the seventh day. Shane hangs up and starts to pack a bag. He packs a full weapons bag as well. Something else pulls at him and he finds himself packing a dozen pairs of flex cuffs too. He travels and stops the day in the closest down to Caineville. Then he travels there at dusk. He heads to Mac's first. The place is dark. It is filthy again. The drawing's he'd only see Mac do after a nightmare were all over the house. His father's fucking tattoo. Shane finds his heart knocking against his ribs. He looks for the dog but he is gone although Mac's truck is there. Shane drives up to the Ashton house. He looks around. There is a van there, and there is a smell of death around the house. He picks the lock and can see that people have been there recently but no one is there now. He drives back toward town and parks away from the bar. Then he walks toward it._

_He waits, watching Walter. When the bar closes Shane is just about to step to the back door when a cabin door opens and a young man steps out. He is tall, rangy but there is something off about him. Shane realises he reminds him of Walter and he steps back into the shadows. He follows as he heads in through the back door, stopping in the kitchen as he talks to Walter. He mentions Reggie and Walter answers him. No mention of Mac which isn't good. Then they mention having to cook. Shane knew Mac was the cook, he cooked to a recipe only he knew. Walter was saying if they couldn't work it out they'd be in trouble._

_Bowing his head Shane let grief wrack his body for several minutes. Then he waited. When Devon had left going back to the cabin, Shane stepped inside. It was easy, easier than he ever thought. He'd tied Walter down and he'd beaten his grief out on him. It was worse somehow as they'd left Mac out there for the animals. Taking his time he got Devon as well and put him in the bar with Walter. He set fire to the bar after making sure that Devon and Walter were alive and low to the ground so they'd feel the heat crawling to them and hear their flesh crackling in the heat before they passed out and died. The girl had been a shock. Drugged to the eyeballs he nearly let her go with them until he realised she'd been taken against her will._

_He'd left her out front for the fire or ambulance whichever got there first. Still shaking in grief he drives back toward home. He absently rubs Mac's name on his right side. So far Rick hadn't seen it. Shane no longer cared if he did._

**The End**


End file.
